What's In A Name
by SuperMegaFoxyAwesomeHot
Summary: Ficlet: Kurt and Blaine don't agree on what their cat's nickname should be, or at least so Blaine thinks...


**I've written Klaine + puppies but never Klaine + kitties, so I had to fix that today.**

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"Ow. Ow. _Ow! _Blaine!"

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I don't know how to make rubbing alcohol sting any less," Blaine said, not looking up from his task. "I promise I'll feed you cheesecake tonight so you don't have to overwork your poor hand."

"We're declawing that damn cat as soon as possible," Kurt grumbled, casting a dark look at their tiny gray kitten, who was curled up in the corner looking deceptively innocent.

"No, we're not," Blaine said patiently, working on the last of Kurt's scratches. He grabbed the Neosporin out of the band-aid box as Kurt heaved a sigh.

"No, we're not," he agreed. "I know it's bad long-term for the cats to be declawed, but it's bad for my skin _right now _to be ripped to shreds by an overeager kitten, too."

"You know Thor just wanted to play," Blaine said, bandaging the first of Kurt's three scratches. Thor had only gotten him with part of his paw, thankfully.

"We're also not nicknaming our cat _Thor_, Blaine," Kurt said, wincing slightly as Blaine finished up. "It's just too...too...tacky."

"Thunderbolt's just too long of a name, though," Blaine said, patting Kurt's hand to indicate that he could move it again. "And Thor has panache!"

"Yeah, if you're seven and it's your first pet," Kurt said, wandering over to the kitchen and grabbing stuff to start dinner. "What's wrong with, I dunno, Bolty or something?"

"Bolty?" Blaine repeated, letting out a wheezy laugh. "You really think that's better than Thor? Bolty sounds like E.L. James' nickname for Michael Bolton's penis."

"Oh my God!" Kurt screeched, scandalized. "Just for that, you're buying hot fudge to go on top of that cheesecake. And I _still _might make you sleep on the couch."

"I think I traumatized myself a little on that one, honestly," Blaine said as the images started flooding his brain. "I'll be right back with your cheesecake, though!" He shrugged on his coat and started clopping down the stairs, still half-laughing at himself.

The trip to the little dessert shop that they had discovered a couple weeks ago practically happened on autopilot, and soon enough Blaine was pounding back up the stairs, balancing a box full of cheesecake and a jar of hot fudge sauce right under his chin. He slowed to a more respectable walk as he approached the loft door, allowing him to overhear Kurt through the little gap he'd left accidentally from not closing it all the way.

"Who's my cute little boy?" Kurt asked in a baby-talk voice. "That's right, Thor, it's you. Papa's frightening little god of thunder."

Blaine peered through the gap and saw that Kurt had Thor on the kitchen table as he prepared dinner, something he'd sworn left, right, and center he would _never _do, because "do you know how unsanitary that is, Blaine? What if we had to host a nice dinner party?"

Thor let out a sweet, warbling meow, prompting Kurt to turn so he could have one hand stirring their dinner and one hand petting the cat. "You're such a little attention hog, Papa could never stay mad at you for long."

Blaine finally had to slide the door open so his pealing laughter wouldn't give him away. "I feel a little unloved right now, not gonna lie."

"Blaine!" Kurt said, snatching his hand away from Thor. "God, didn't you just leave?"

"Emalie wasn't busy tonight, she had the food in my hand practically before I got in the shop," Blaine said, sliding the dessert into the fridge. "I came back in plenty of time to hear you sweet talking our cat."

"I can explain-"

"Nope, no need. You, Kurt Hummel, love Thor. Possibly more than you love me," Blaine said, coming to wrap his arms around Kurt's waist from behind.

"Impossible," Kurt said, squirming in Blaine's grip. When Blaine loosened his arms enough, he turned around and pressed a sweet kiss to Blaine's lips. "For one, Thor would be a terrible make-out partner."

"I do have that going for me," Blaine conceded. "I like to think the opposable thumbs are a plus, too."

"You have many qualities that I wouldn't throw away for pussy, Blaine," Kurt teased.

Blaine choked on his own saliva before bursting into belly laughter. "First you're letting me name our cat after a superhero and now you're making crude jokes," he said when he regained his breath. "What's next, going out in public in a muscle shirt and a backwards snapback?"

"Don't even _joke _about that, B, oh my God," Kurt said, looking horrified. "You'd have to take me to the hospital, because I would clearly be suffering some kind of brain trauma." He flipped the stove off and grabbed the colander, prompting Blaine to quickly set the table.

"I promise, if you ever stop dressing as fabulously as you currently do for no apparent reason, I'll seek immediate medical attention," Blaine said once they were served and seated, holding up his hand in a scout's honor pledge. "This doesn't mean you want me to stop talking fratty in bed, though, right?"

"God, no."

"Good." Blaine leaned in for one last kiss, enjoying the feeling of being so in love with such a wonderful man.

At least until the cat started eating his linguine.


End file.
